Sun, sliced in half—
juice and pulp and seeds exposed
by knife blade.
A sip of citrus blood
sugars my tongue
and I toss the hull away.
My requirements for the day
met: I laugh, belly deep, I dance
inappropriately,
I drink this
forgiving sun
into my fraying bones
and forget the upset
apple cart where I’ve piled up
all my shame.
© 2025 Jennifer Wagner
Dora has us reimagining something familiar or habitual with our poems over at dVerse.